


Breakfast and Papers

by windandthestars



Series: Life Long Love Letter (A Series of Post S2 Newsroom Fics) [1]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e09 Election Night Part II, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late by the time they make it back to her place.  She's been stumbling along, muttering at him since they’d left the car and he's trying his best to ignore her, the quiet crooning of his name as she tries to form whatever sleep addled argument she feels she has to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast and Papers

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the season 2 finale

It's late by the time they make it back to her place. She's been stumbling along, muttering at him since they’d left the car and he's trying his best to ignore her, the quiet crooning of his name as she tries to form whatever sleep addled argument she feels she has to make.

"You should stay." She finally manages, when he asks her to kick off her shoes at the door and he smiles at her, amused by how determined she sounds.

"You're drunk, Mac."

"I'm getting married." She counters with a grin and he laughs.

"We're getting married."

"Right." She says pointing at him and he can't help but shake his head as she hands him her jacket and wanders into her apartment.

He throws the blazer over a chair and follows her when he hears her rummaging in the fridge.

"You should get some sleep."

"I'm looking for water. I'm drunk, remember."

He's standing two feet from the faucet, and there's a water dispenser on the fridge door she's holding open, but he's not going to mention that. Instead, pulls open cupboards until he finds a water glass and turns on the tap.

She pulls back from the fridge, frowning at the door, when she hears the water running. "The water's right here."

He hands her the glass, watching as she gulps it down. "I know."

"You didn't tell me." 

"You like to giggle when you're drunk," he sighs, "and while it's adorable it doesn't tend to stop and it's late and we're both tired and I thought maybe we could save that for tomorrow."

She seems to find his logic sound because she plucks the glass from his hand and heads back toward the bedroom. "You should stay. Billy." She calls when he doesn't answer. "You should stay."

"I heard you." He grumbles teasing her, unable to resist, despite his own warning, the sound of her laugh.

"You're staying." She deduces, sounding so pleased with the thought he doesn't have the heart to disagree. She sounds happy, not giddy like before, but content, reassured.

"I'll stay." He murmurs as he moves to her side and cups her jaw in both of his hands before brushing a kiss against her forehead. 

"I have to," she gestures vaguely, gaze fixed on him searching, as she bites back a yawn "take off my makeup, pajamas."

"Get in bed." He repeats himself, coaxing the second time. "I'll take care of it."

She’s not wearing any makeup, if she had been that morning it’s long gone; between the previous morning’s cups of coffee, she’d splashed water on her face, disappearing between trial runs and returning with drops of water clinging to her eyelashes. He’s almost certain she wouldn’t notice if he conveniently forgot about her request, but he fumbles around her bathroom anyway. 

It's been years since he's tried to find anything in a bathroom that wasn't his and even longer since he's tried to make sense of MacKenzie's sense of organization. He finds the makeup, but he's not sure what her makeup remover looks like or if it's even in the same drawer. He opens the other drawers to make sure he's not missing anything obvious and then pulls a washcloth from where they're stacked next to the towels.

She's asleep, under the covers, but still in her clothes by the time he comes back. He considers waking her and helping her undress, but the sight of her asleep makes it hard for him to remember why it is he cares about what she’s wearing. It’s the first time he’s seen her relaxed in weeks, the first time he’s seen her look as young as he remembers.

She’s still smiling as he perches on the side of the bed and wipes the warm cloth against her check. He traces the outline of her nose, the curve of her bottom lip. What little makeup there might be would ring her eyes, but he carefully washes the rest of her face, taking in the shapes and the contours he's never quite forgotten. 

She's down for the count, but he's careful with her eyes, gentle and slow, stopping for a moment when she sighs. There's a bit of black smeared below her lashes when he's done but he doubts she'll notice in the morning with the dark circles still smudged under her eyes.

He's not sure he should stay, curling up next to her is just too tempting, but he wants to watch her sleep. It doesn’t take long, however, before he gives in and spoons up behind her. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to with the blankets and the space between them. He’s curled up on top of the covers despite the blustery weather outside; it feels safer less presumptuous and he doesn’t want to ruin this. It’s warm enough inside that he’s not anticipating freezing and even if he were, it’s a small price to pay for the feeling of her in his arms. 

 

When he wakes it takes a minute to come back to him: MacKenzie, the election, the ring, the smell of her shampoo, her arms around his neck, the stumble and her laugh as he made his announcement. It's late, half passed seven, he realizes as he stabs bleary eyed at his blackberry. Normally they would both be up and headed to the office. He's pretty sure there's still news to report and the suit to deal with, but the office is the last thing on his mind.

He's still not entirely sure spending the night had been the best idea. Nothing had happened, but he's not sure she's going to remember asking him to stay and he knows he's not going to be able to come up with a convincing explanation if he needs one.

She'd been sleep deprived and he'd been high on the euphoria of his own self-discovery. It's not the most compelling argument in favor of either of them seeing this through, but his ring is on her finger and his hands are tangled in her hair and that's all he can ask for right now.

 

By the time she starts stirring awake, tiny fits and starts of awareness, the snow has picked up outside. He's already gone out and bought her a stack of newspapers along with coffee and breakfast since her fridge is mostly empty and the kitchen's too far away from her anyway.

"Billy?" She's groggy, squinting into the interior of the room.

"Right here, Mac." He reaches out and presses her wandering fingers between his palms.

"It happened?" She sounds uncertain, like she's not sure that he's here, like maybe she's dreamed the whole thing up.

"It happened."

"I'm still wearing my clothes."

"That also happened."

"William Duncan McAvoy." Half asleep, the force of his full name is almost negligible, but he acts appropriately chastised as she kicks at the covers while trying to pull her skirt back down into proper alignment one handed.

"You were supposed to get me naked." She grumbles and he can't help but laugh as she pulls her hand away from his to rub at her eyes.

"I called Charlie and told him you wouldn't be in for the rundown at two."

"You told him-"

"You were sleeping, which you were."

"Oh," she moans shooting him a half convincing glare. "They're all going to think we're..."

"They already think that and you just said-"

"Shut it."

"Alright," he shrugs, "but for the record, I don't remember you being this cranky in the morning."

"It's ten thirty in the morning, I'm wearing yesterday's clothes and," she winces, "my head hurts."

"Maybe if you stopped yelling."

"I said-"

"Shutting up," he agrees, leaning over to brush her hair from her face. "I do deserve some credit though, I braved a fucking Nor'easter to buy you breakfast. There's coffee and papers. I had Neal walk me through connecting your laptop to the office network so you can still read the ones I couldn't find."

"You can do that?"

"Neal can. I did so yes, we can do that now."

"You bought me breakfast?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say to you backwards?"

"Did you buy Egg McMuffins?"

"I eat those before bed now."

Mac shifts closer to him, resting her hand against his knee. "We always had them for breakfast."

"I remember."

"They're kind of disgusting."

"They remind me of you."

"Because they're disgusting?"

"Because we always- I bought you one of the ones that comes on a croissant."

"OK," she smiles at him, still teasing but growing serious. "You stayed."

"You remember that?"

"Remember what?"

"Never mind, I brought you breakfast."

She frowns at him. "What don't I remember?"

"You were a little bit drunk."

She watches him for a moment, considering or reconsidering he’s not quire sure. "I remember being more than a little drunk."

"You were a lot drunk, then," he covers her hand with his, toying with the ring she's still wearing. "And you asked me to stay."

"We're getting married."

"I'm glad you remember that."

"I'm serious, Billy."

"Me too. I meant what I said. I love you and-"

"Shut it."

"Mac-"

"That's what I said, and then you kissed me and I'm pretty sure the floor-"

"You kissed me."

She’s doe eyed and grinning, teasing. "I did not. Where's breakfast? I'd like to eat before noon."

"I bring you breakfast in bed and you snark at me." He pulls the bag free from where it rests by his feet and she snatches it from his hand. 

"Egg McMuffins."

"And coffee. In a fucking nor'easter."

"It's a little bit of snow."

"Fucking nor'easter."

"Snow," she squints at him. "Stop arguing. I own you, remember?"

"I said-"

"Snow."

"Fine, snow. I went out in the snow and bought you breakfast."

"And papers." She smiles. "You bought me breakfast and papers."


End file.
